Fell For the Enemy
by Scribbler
Summary: The first time Tifa saw Sephiroth, she wasn't entirely ready for the feelings he provoked.


**Disclaimer****:** Conflictingly not mine.

**A/N****:** Originally written for the ficlet collection _**A Riotous Symphony**_. The idea is that you put your playlist on random/shuffle and then write a ficlet related to or inspired by each song that plays. You only have the time the song lasts to finish; you start when it starts and stop when it stops. I went way, WAY beyond the remit with this one, though, and ended up extending it into a fic of its own. The song that provoked it was 'Fell For the Enemy' by Chris Crocker.

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_**Fell For the Enemy**_

© Scribbler, August 2010.

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The first time Tifa saw Sephiroth, she had tracked Cloud to a distant world where most of the land was covered in cities, packed so close together it was difficult to tell where one ended and another began. In the three days she was there she didn't see one tree or blade of grass, and not one of her meals contained any vegetables. She didn't like to think what meat she was eating. It was the kind of place where it was better not to ask.

She did what she always did when she came to a new place: asked everyone she met whether they had seen a warrior answering to Cloud's description. It was a hit-or-miss strategy that missed more than it hit, but she didn't have much choice. She was no magician and couldn't follow the magical trail Cloud left after he tore a path between worlds. The tracker Merlin had given her told her which world to travel to next, but once she passed through each leaky gummi shield, she was on her own.

Cloud's sword was what most people remembered. Blond men weren't unusual, and on most of the worlds he went to there were plenty of warriors, but not many carried a blade that size. Sometimes Tifa wondered whether she should ask whether people had seen a giant sword with a man attached. Maybe then she'd find him quicker.

Of course, that begged the question: and then what? She would find him quicker, sure, but would it be just for him to reject her quicker? Would the whole sorry process just be put on fast-forward? She preferred not to think about stuff like that, and so she plodded on, wishing she at least had a recent photograph to show people.

On the third day she was footsore and weary, both in body and spirit. Was it so much to ask, to be able to help the man she loved? She wasn't sure how Cloud felt about her, but that didn't matter. Love wasn't about getting something in return. It was about wanting what was best for the person you cared about, and Tifa knew in her heart that Cloud shouldn't be left to face Sephiroth alone. Cloud was the strongest warrior she had ever met, but in his own way he was also the most vulnerable. To stop him being hurt she would travel to a thousand worlds, just to make sure she was there in the single moment he needed her.

Which didn't mean she couldn't also be royally pissed off with him. The sole of her left boot had worn out and the other was so thin she could feel every bump and stone in the road. It was hot, she was stinky with sweat, and flies circled her head like she already dead. She waved them off, but they kept coming back. She gritted her teeth and reminded herself why she was here. Nevertheless, why did Cloud have to make things so _difficult_? She was just trying to help. Was it manly pride, a misplaced desire to protect her, or just plain stupidity that made him vamoose whenever she came near?

"A girl could get a complex about behaviour like that," she muttered. "Get _lost_ you stupid flies."

"You okay, Miss?" The city was rife with merchants out for a quick sale. One took advantage of Tifa's distraction to waylay her and open his coat. She backed off, thinking he was a flasher, but he was only showing the wares he had tucked into the hundreds of pockets sewn into the lining. "Can I interest you in some hat netting to keep the bugs off your face? You don't have a hat, you say? Well it's your lucky day, because I have one in just your size …"

Tifa disentangled herself with some effort. The people in this place stuck like glue if they thought you had money. Looking at her surroundings, she could guess why. Everyone was dirt poor, and from what she had seen in her time there, jobs were thin on the ground. She had been mugged twice, both times sending the muggers packing with their tails between their legs.

"The things I go through for you, Cloud Strife," she sighed. "Ow, my feet. I said get _off_, you stupid flies! Oh man, this heat is incredible."

She stopped off at a street seller she had bought from before. The landlady of her lodgings had recommended his cart based on the fact he changed the grease in his fryer once a week instead of once a month. Usually Tifa avoided fried food, but in this city there wasn't much choice. She bought a bag of four 'pekori' and another of four 'chakatha', smiled at the seller and pretended not to notice he was staring at her boobs. She dragged herself back to the dingy room she had rented and wondered if she had enough munny left for new shoes.

The pekori and chakatha smelled wonderful, even if they were about as nutritious as fried rat droppings. She paused with her key almost in the lock. Then she shook her head. She was pretty sure they were rice and meat mixed together. Even so, she resolved to pick out anything too suspicious. Her mouth watered despite herself as she fumbled with the handle and pushed the door open with her hip.

She halted in her tracks. There was a man in her room. He was silhouetted by the window, next to her bed. Tifa's breath caught in her throat. For a fraction of a second she thought it might be Cloud. Then he turned his head.

Piercing eyes stared at her, pale green, yet lit from within like two chunks of emerald that had somehow stolen the heart of a flame. He had a face carved with the exacting precision of a master sculptor: beautiful, forceful, arrogant, the mouth touched with a hint of cruelty. His cheekbones were high, his nose aristocratic, and the line of his jaw was so strong she could imagine him biting into sheet metal and spitting out nails.

A primitive urge to shield herself rose in Tifa. She heard a vague thunk, followed by another, but didn't look to see what had made the noise. She was totally caught in the man's gaze. It was hypnotic in the small space, and he was equally mesmerizing in this incongruous setting. Filthy barely described the grim little room. It was hot as an oven, smelled like a sewer and looked worse than both put together. It was no place for a god with silver hair and a sword longer than she was tall.

Wait – silver hair and a giant sword? Ice shot down Tifa's spine.

"S-Sephiroth!"

He turned his body towards her as well. "You know me?"

Tifa swallowed. She had heard of him, but knew him only as the object of Cloud's quest. Other than a warning about his 'unimaginable power' and a physical description that didn't do him justice, she didn't know anything about Sephiroth. He was a mystery. That hadn't bothered her before; she had just figured she would set aside her curiosity when she finally faced him. You didn't need to know a person's inner secrets to kick the crap out of them. Now she knew that was impossible. He radiated power. Just being in the same room made her feel three inches tall. She couldn't even take a step backwards. She was pinned by his stare.

He came towards her. He didn't run at her, so she had plenty of time to make her getaway. She didn't. She couldn't.

_Move_, she thought desperately. _Move, you idiot! Get out of his way. Move your feet. MOVE!_

Sephiroth's face told her nothing. He had something in his hands. As he got closer she saw it was her knapsack. She had brought it from Traverse Town and taken it with her to every world she visited. She had only one rule of travel other than 'go where Cloud goes' and that was 'if it doesn't fit in the knapsack it doesn't come along'. Her life was in that bag. Sephiroth touching it felt like a violation. The idea that he might have gone through it while she wasn't around made her suck in her breath.

Sephiroth halted in front of her and looked down. He wasn't that much taller, but he _acted_ tall, which was much more intimidating. Tifa couldn't believe her own weakness. She was a trained warrior; an expert in Zangan Ryu martial arts. Even Leon respected her fighting skill. Why couldn't she _move_? Sephiroth was just a man. She could disintegrate a boulder with one punch. She could beat him, she knew she could.

"Your name is Tifa." He didn't say it like a question. "You follow Cloud."

Tifa swallowed. She wanted to make some smart remark, but her tongue was trying to find a way out of through the bottom of her lower jaw. She couldn't form words. She couldn't _think_ in words. The urge to run away was so strong she could scarcely think at all. _This_ was the man Cloud had been searching for all this time? He was terrifying!

Sephiroth continued to stare at her. "Why?" he asked.

"Huh?"

"Why do you follow him?" He tilted his head. It was such a human gesture; it broke his hold over her.

Inwardly Tifa shook herself, like a dog after a dip in stagnant water. She knew it was stupid – her sensei would yell at her for sure – but she shut her eyes. She had to escape his gaze to gather herself enough to reply. "I love him."

"You _love_ him?" This time Sephiroth sounded incredulous.

"Yes, I love him."

"You love Cloud?"

"_Yes_, I love Cloud! Is that so hard to believe?"

"And does he love you in return?"

She wondered whether he was planning to kill her as a way to hurt Cloud. The idea made her more angry than afraid. Her anger was like a wet cloth over a chalkboard; it wiped away enough of her terror to let her function. She drew herself up and opened her eyes. He was still staring down at her, but this time she met it. She wasn't some faint-hearted damsel in distress.

"Well?" Sephiroth prompted. "Does he?"

"I don't know."

His gaze was probing. She couldn't fool him the way she fooled herself. Tifa tasted blood and realised she had pierced the inside of her own cheek with her teeth.

"I … don't think so."

"Hm. That would explain why he always runs away from you."

She tasted blood again. _It would be a really bad idea to insult the homicidal maniac. Don't insult the homicidal maniac. Are you listening, Tifa?_

"So why do you persist in following him despite his continuous rejection?"

She unclenched her teeth. "I already told you: because I love him."

The skin between Sephiroth's eyes wrinkled slightly. He seemed to be struggling to understand. Then his face cleared. He had evidently considering her answer and found it – and her – wanting. "Love," he said at last, dismissively. "An unfathomable emotion."

"Like hate is any easier to understand?" Tifa said recklessly. She was stung by his disregard. "Why does Cloud hate you so much?"

"You think he hates me?"

"Enough to put his life on hold so he can follow you between worlds. He left everything and everyone behind to follow you! And for what? Tell me." She had never snarled at anyone in her life, but she wanted to snarl now. Everything she had endured in her pursuit of Cloud was because of Sephiroth. She deserved to know why. "Tell me!"

Sephiroth smiled. It was the most disturbing thing Tifa had ever seen. She could have sworn her heart skipped a couple of beats. "You naïve little fool," he chuckled. "But naïveté won't save you."

Oh hell. This was it. He was going to kill her now. Tifa scrunched up her courage and willed her hands into fists. She wouldn't meet death like a coward. She may not be able to kill Sephiroth, but she could at least leave him something to remember her by.

But the attack never came. Instead, Sephiroth hooked the strap of the knapsack over her head so it ran diagonally from her shoulder to her hip. Then he bent down and picked something up off the floor. Tifa readied herself, but before she could even kick out at him in his vulnerable position, he blurred as if caught on a camera smeared with Vaseline. She gaped at the spot where he had been.

"What the –"

The air behind her distorted. She whirled, or tried to whirl. Pain erupted in her shoulders and wrists. Sephiroth folded both of her crossed arms up her back. She yelped.

"Tell Cloud he will never be rid of me until he accepts me and the darkness in his own heart." He spoke into her ear, as one lover might whisper to another.

A shiver went through Tifa; or maybe it was a shudder of disgust. She couldn't understand any of her responses around this man. He confused her senses and her mind. She used to think she wasn't afraid of anyone. Her biggest fear was of something bad happening to her loved ones, but not herself. Her selfish fear now mortified her. It made her feel frail and far, far too mortal. You couldn't think about your own death in the kind of life she led; not if you wanted to stay sane. You had to spit in death's eye and pretend you didn't care or you'd be frozen in place and never move forward. Her whole life was about moving forward, but Sephiroth froze her up outside and burned her up inside. How could Cloud pursue him so unerringly? How could anyone want to even be around him?

"Tell him yourself!" she hissed. "Or are you too scared to face Cloud one-on-one?"

"I fear nothing."

"Then quit running away and put an end to all this so he can come home!"

"Only Cloud can put an end to our conflict," Sephiroth said cryptically.

"You – whoa!" Tifa staggered forward as the grip on her arms vanished. She whipped around, but the doorway and hall behind her were empty. She pivoted three hundred and sixty degrees, but she was alone. Sephiroth was gone. "How did he …? What just happened?" She looked down. He had put something into each of her hands; the bags of pekori and chakatha. She frowned. "But I didn't open these. Hey, I ordered four of each, and now there are only three!"

Today's weirdness knew no bounds. Surreal piled on top of improbability and creepiness. Not only had she finally met Sephiroth, he was using her as his messenger and as the source of a free lunch. The fact he had to eat humanised him in a way Tifa wasn't exactly comfortable with. She preferred it when he was just a phantom in Cloud's stories.

Her hands bunched into fists around the greaseproof bags. Her anger flared back into life, not because of the food, but because she felt so humiliated. There had been no audience to their exchange, but that didn't matter. She knew how afraid she had been, and of the contradictory emotions Sephiroth had inspired. For a second there she had actually wanted …

No. _No!_ She shook her head so vehemently she made herself dizzy. She loved Cloud. Whatever he felt for her, she loved him, and she would do whatever it took to help him. Her face fell into a scowl of epic proportions.

"Sephiroth," she growled. "Next time we meet, you'd better watch out. You won't get one over on me again."

For a second she remembered the feel of his lips so close to her ear, his breath hot on her neck, and the mocking way he had spoken. _You think Cloud hates me? You naïve little fool._

The taste of blood spread across her tongue once more. "Next time," she promised. "I'll show you. You just wait."

She ignored the little piece of her that hoped there wouldn't be a next time.

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_**Fin.**_


End file.
